Archive of Our Own ^beta

Scott's eyes switched back and forth between the road ahead, illuminated by a golden swath of light beaming from the headlights, to Derek's face, coming in and out of shadow as they drove by trees that obscured the moon. His stomach clenched as he dared a glance behind him, thinking about what was in the trunk.

 Erica.

 Erica's body.

 Erica's dead.

Scott swallowed against the burn of bile climbing up his throat. He had known of course that they were likely to find her that way—Isaac had told them all as much while he was under. But Scott had still hoped there was a chance that she was still alive. Not as much as Derek had though. Scott saw the way Derek had clung to the possibility that when he found Boyd and Erica they would both be alive. He had been so adamant that Scott had almost believed Derek could make it happen by sheer force of will. Unfortunately, not even Derek's stubbornness was a match for harsh reality.

Scott looked at Derek again. Studied his profile, eyes that remained steadfastly on the road, jaw clenched tight, muscles twitching in a frenzied rhythm. Derek's grip was firm on the steering wheel, both hands in the perfect ten and two positions, knuckles white.

Scott wanted to say something to him. Offer him some words of comfort, condolence. His chest tightened as he remembered the look on Derek's face as he cradled Erica's lifeless form in his arms. He had seemed so broken, lost. It had only lasted a second though. In a flash Derek's eyes hardened, his features smoothing out, the sadness fading. But not before Scott had felt the full weight of it like a kick to the stomach. Scott hadn't known Derek's face was capable of such an expression, such vulnerability. The only emotions Scott was used to seeing Derek display were frustration or anger. He only rarely caught a glimpse of other, softer emotions. But those brief flashes of deeper feelings were enough for Scott to realize that Derek wasn't as callous as he sometimes came off. Even if he had the unsettling ability to quickly brush off trauma. Other people might mistake it for Derek being cold—Scott used to—but Scott was beginning to know better now. Know Derek better.

To be fair, it wasn't as if Derek had really had the luxury of being able to let himself set in his grief over Erica. Not with Boyd and Cora on the loose moon-crazed and ready to rip anything or anyone they came in contact with apart. Fortunately, they had caught them before too much damage had been done.

Scott came by the loft to check how things were going the next night just as Derek was leaving.

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked

“Something I have to take care of.”

“What?”

Derek sighed, pausing on his way to the door to look back at his beta. “Erica.”

Isaac's eyes widened in surprise briefly before turning darker, sadder. “I should come with you,” he purposed after a pause.

“No. Boyd and Cora shouldn't be alone.” 

“Neither should you,” Isaac argued.

“I'll be fine,” Derek assured. “Just…look after them.” With that he turned and left, silencing anymore of Isaac's demurrals with the solid thud of the metal door.

Scott turned to Isaac. “Will you be okay alone?”

Isaac nodded. “I'm not sure about him though.”

“Don't worry. He won't be alone.”

Scott had slid into the passenger's seat just as Derek stuck the keys in the ignition.

Derek sighed, weary. “Scott get out.”

“No.” Scott slammed the door and pulled the seat belt across his body, clicking it into place. “Isaac's right. You shouldn't do this alone.”

Derek took in a breath, looking ready to fight Scott on this, but blew it out, shaking his head. “Fine,” he gritted out then revved the engine to life.

Scott rubbed his palms against this thighs, chewing thoughtfully on his lip, as he tried to think of something to say. Something to pierce the veil of silence they've been sitting in since Derek pulled away from the curb. He took a breath and opened his mouth.

“Where are we going anyway?” Okay, so maybe not the most poignant choice of words—and honestly something he probably should have asked before they were already nearly twenty miles out of town.

Derek's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the leather covering creaking under the force. “Where do you think, Scott? To bury her someplace secluded.”

“Bury her?” Scott blurted out. This really should have occurred to him, but it hadn't.

Derek flicked a brief glance in Scott's direction. “What did you think?”

Scott's body hunched down in the seat, his fingers curling into the fabric of his jeans. “I don't know… I just… What about her family? If we bury her they'll never know what happened?” He felt sick at the thought. Pictured his own mother if something like this happened to him. Waiting for answers about her missing son while he rotted away in some hole in the ground.

“Well, what do you suggest, Scott?” Derek snapped. “It's not exactly as though we can just leave her body on their doorstep, ring the bell, and run.”

Scott's teeth set at Derek's condescending tone, fingernails digging into his flesh. “No, of course not. I know that. But couldn't we… I don't know, couldn't we leave the body somewhere that it'll be found.”

“You mean somewhere exposed? Where anything can get to her? Like wild animals that will pick at her flesh and bones, rip her apart until there's nothing left to identify? Somewhere like that?”

Scott closed his eyes, a sigh slipping from him, and slumped back in defeat. “No. I don't want that to happen.”

“But that's exactly what will happen if we leave her body out in the open,” Derek said, his voice still firm but less harsh. “It's just nature. That's why I have to make sure to dig a hole deep enough that no animal will be able to tear it up. It's the least I owe her.”

“We,” Scott said after a beat, voice low and thick.

“What?” Derek looked over to Scott again, brow furrowed.

“We. We have to dig a hole deep enough,” Scott clarified, turning his head to look out the passenger's side window.

“Right,” Derek dully agreed. “We.”

*

“Um, I think we're good,” Scott remarked sometime later, looking up at the dirt walls that surrounded him and Derek, already well over their heads. As it was they would both have to make quite a leap to get out of the hole they created. “Derek?” Scott peered over his shoulder at the other man. Derek's back was to him. The tip of Derek's triskele tattoo was visible over the top of his tank. It undulated as the muscles of his upper back and shoulders tensed and flexed beneath his sweat-soaked skin. Scott placed his shovel against the side of the hole and crossed the small space to come up behind Derek. “Seriously, Derek, I think that's enough.”

But Derek kept on digging as if he didn't hear Scott, stabbing the spade furiously into the ground over and over.

“Derek!” Scott shouted, wrapping his hand around Derek's bicep and pulling him around to face him. Derek's face whipped around to Scott, eyes flashing red, a growl rumbling through his clenched fangs. Scott jerked back slightly in surprise but didn't let go of Derek's arm. “Derek,” Scott repeated, his voice steady, calm. His hand slipped down Derek's arm and covered the fists curled around the handle of the shovel. “It's okay. It's enough.”

Derek's fingers unclasped, dropping the shovel to the ground. Scott took hold of Derek's shaking hands and gripped them tightly, stilling them. Derek looked up at Scott, his eyes back to their human color, and Scott could see that lost look clouding them again, that helplessness.

“It's all my fault,” Derek whispered.

Scott didn't say anything. What could say? That it wasn't Derek's fault. What good would that do? They both knew the truth. If Derek hadn't given Erica the bite she'd still be here. Still be that shy girl who got teased for an affliction she had no control over. A girl with a hopeless crush on Stiles. A girl who, no matter how unfair it seemed at times, still had a life ahead of her.

Scott wouldn't lie to Derek. He wouldn't placate him with false words of absolution that wouldn't do him any good anyway. So Scott just stayed silent and kept holding Derek's hands.

~*~

Derek was on his knees, tearing at the earth with his claws when Scott found him. Scott's heart twisted with a mix of relief and sorrow. He was glad that he was able to actually locate Derek, even though he hadn't been paying that much attention the last time they came here. But it pained him to witness Derek like this. Guilt churned in his gut for not getting to the loft sooner. If he had gone there instead of to the bank maybe things would be different. But he couldn't have known at the time about the circle of mountain ash that rendered him basically useless to help Deaton. Thank god for Sheriff Stilinski, otherwise, the night's loss might have been twice as great.

When Scott finally checked his phone after making sure Deaton was safe at home he had found dozens of missed calls from Stiles, texts telling him to come to the loft. By the time he got there, it was already too late. He found Isaac, Cora, Lydia, and Stiles just standing around aimlessly in the flooded space.

“What happened? Where's Derek and Boyd?”

Fear of the worst had had his heart beating wildly. Then Stiles told him what happened, and how afterward Derek had picked up Boyd's body and left without a word.

Scott had immediately turned around and ran out of the loft to go find him.

“Derek,” Scott called out as he approached the other werewolf. Derek continued to paw up the dirt with his bare hands. “Derek stop!” Scott intoned and Derek froze finally. Swallowing thickly, Scott slowly took steps towards Derek's hunched over and heaving frame, circling around him. Scott squatted down in front of Derek, eyes flicking to the blanket-covered lump that was Boyd's body. He looked down at Derek's hands, claws extended, dirty and blood stained—some Boyd's, some Derek's. “Derek what are you doing? You really think that you can dig a grave all on your own with your bare hands?”

Derek didn't say anything. His eyes remained on the ground as he let out heavy, shaking breaths.

“Derek?” Scott gently prodded.

Derek shook his head. “It's not worth it,” he uttered, so quiet human ears wouldn't have heard him.

Scott's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Derek took in a deep rattling breath and looked up at Scott. Scott was a bit surprised to find the greenish hue of Derek's human eyes staring back at him instead of the blaze of Alpha red. Derek swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing and blinked away the moisture in his eyes.

“You remember what I said to you that night after the first time we were attacked by the hunters? What I said about the bite.”

“Yeah,” Scott replied slowly. “You said it was a gift.”

Derek snorted a laugh. The sound was bitter and a bit hysterical.

“I was wrong.” He looked over his shoulder at Boyd's blanket-covered body. He shook his head. “It's not a gift. And nothing is worth this.”

Scott shifted awkwardly, finding himself again at a loss for any words to offer Derek. He dropped down on his knees and reached out for Derek's hands. He looked at the dirt and blood caked on them, wondering how many times they had been cut and healed over. “You didn't really plan to dig a grave with your bare hands did you?”

“There's a shovel in the car,” Derek murmured, voice rough.

Scott nodded. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I know that we talked about this after Erica but…This is different. The Boyd's have already lost one child without knowing what happened. Do you really want to do that to them again?”

Derek jerked his hands away from Scott's and Scott winced. Derek cleared his throat, swiping at his face with the back of his hand, smearing it with dirt. “My priority isn't to Boyd's parents. It's to Boyd. And Boyd would want to be with Erica.”

“Okay,” Scott replied after a moment. “Okay. I'll go get the shovel.”

*

“We should probably be heading back,” Scott remarked once the grave was filled in, the sky already beginning to lighten with the first signs of morning. “I can put my bike in the back of your car. We can go back together.”

“No,” Derek said. “I'm not ready to go back yet.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, I guess staying for a while longer is okay. I'll just text my mom so she doesn't worry when she gets home and I'm not there.”

“No, Scott. You should go home,” Derek told him. “I'm gonna stay.”

“It's not a problem really. I can stay with you.”

“Thank you. But…” Derek sighed. “I just want to be alone for a while. I need to be.”

Scott bit his lip, hesitant. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I'll be fine Scott,” he assured.

“Okay.” Scott bobbed his head and after a moment turned away, leaving Derek alone in the clearing as the sun climbed up in the sky and the moon began to fade away.

~*~

Scott was kneeling before the grave, his hand running lightly over the freshly upturned earth. Derek stepped up behind him, treading softly—even though Scott would sense him anyway. He had been hanging back for a while now, through the funeral and after. Waiting until the mourners began to dwindle from a large crowd to just a few; the pack. Then it was just Scott and Stiles for a while. Then just Scott. Derek waited a bit before approaching Scott, wanting to give the younger man some time on his own. It was dark now. The moon, not full but waxing, was glowing brightly in the sky, creating a silver glow over the graveyard.

“Does it ever stop?” Scott whispered, his eyes focused on Allison's headstone. “Does the pain ever go away?” He looked over his shoulder at Derek. His eyes were bloodshot but dry, probably having cried all the tears they could by now.

Derek knew why Scott was asking him. Knew that Stiles had told him what Peter had said about Paige. Derek tried not to wince as a pang shot through his chest.

“No,” he told Scott honestly. “It…shifts. It changes, over time. But it never goes away. Not completely.”

Scott nodded as if this was the answer he was expecting and looks back to the headstone. “Good,” he murmured. “I don't want it to.” He pushed himself to his feet and stepped back, standing next to Derek, their shoulders brushing. “Because the only thing I can imagine feeling worse than the pain of losing Allison is how it would feel to forget.”

“Don't worry, Scott,” Derek told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You'll never forget her.”

Derek's hand slipped down Scott's arm and he tangled his hand with Scott's, squeezing it. Scott squeezed back. Derek knew that unlike with a physical ache, there was nothing he could do to help ease Scott's pain. But at the very least Derek could stand by Scott's side for a while and bear it with him.

~*~

The sun glinted off the golden finish of the urn as Scott lifted the lid. He came down on his knees and set it on the ground.

“I thought you'd want to be with them,” Scott murmured aloud, his voice carried away on the light breeze. He swallowed down a large lump clogging his throat and blinked at the stinging moisture in his eyes. He would have tried to have Derek's body buried here, but it had been so ravaged in the fight that there wasn't much left. Everyone agreed as a pack that the best thing would be to have his remains cremated, to scatter his ashes over the spot where Boyd and Erica were buried. Scott sniffed, swiping his hand under his eyes.

“You weren't wrong, Derek,” Scott croaked. “The bite, it was a gift. Because without it I never would have got to have you in my life. And that…that's something I can never regret no matter how much pain came along with it. I loved you. I love you, Derek. And no matter what I'll never forget you.”

Scott reached his hand inside the urn and lifted out a fist full of ashes. He opened his hand, letting them fall to the ground and dance in the wind.